Recognition
by TaterWitch
Summary: Astyka is one of the Tenno, a group of selfess, nearly godlike warriors who protect the Origin System from destruction every day. However, unlike many of her fellow Tenno, she doesn't feel satisfied with her existence, as though her efforts amount to nothing in the end. Will Astyka find fulfillment? And if she does, at what cost?


Astyka stood up abruptly, only to immediately lose balance and fall back into her seat. She shook her head, blinking the sleep dust out of her eyes blearily. The room was as she left it, spotless and well-lit with an ethereal blue light. Nothing out of the ordinary. The chrome walls gleamed dully in the soft light, their curvature almost organic in nature. Finally, Astyka stood up fully, cracking her knuckles and yawning.

"Alara, status report," she mumbled, stepping out of her transference pod and onto the metallic floor with a dull thud. Her voice was hoarse, like steel scraping at sandstone.

"All systems nominal, operator," replied Alara, seemingly from everywhere at once. The cephalon's voice was a direct contrast to Astyka's, melodic and soothing. "You have no messages awaiting you in your inbox. Your Warframe is still being repaired, and will be ready for deployment in three hours."  
Astyka nodded, leaving her room and turning left. Her upper back ached, as per usual, and she had a ferocious headache. She trudged into the living area, moving to the restroom to brush her teeth. In the mirror, she saw a woman with freckled coppery skin staring back at her, sporting messy short brown hair and a hatchet nose. Her grey eyes swept over her thin form, perhaps too thin? Well, nutrition bars can only do so much. Astyka raised her hand to her chest and felt her lower ribs through her loose blue shirt, and sighed wearily. "Alara, set a course for the Orcus relay. I'm going to get some real food."  
"Are you sure, operator? After the last ti-"  
" _I said, set a course for the Orcus relay!"_  
"Right away, operator."

The Orcus relay was an auditory paradox. In the docking bay, it was oddly quiet, the sophisticated engines of various shuttles giving off only a quiet purr as they latched onto the many ports. This constant hum was accentuated only by the sound of people disembarking one by one, eerily silent; it was an unspoken rule that one should not speak too loudly in the bay, though no one would be able to say why. This effect was magnified by the sheer volume of people leaving or entering through the area at any given time.  
Upon passing through the security gate, however, one would be struck with a blast of noise: work boots thudding rhythmically against metal, syndicate representatives conversing and arguing, travellers peddling their wares in the hub, and so many more sounds. Yet, visually, perhaps ten or twenty people could be seen at a time. That is, unless, a Warframe entered view.  
When they laid eyes upon their selfless protectors, people would invariably scatter. The sound of technocyte upon the deck sent chills down the spines of most civilians, like the howl of a kubrow. Only the syndicates' seasoned members had the courage to face the Tenno.

All of these things culminated in quite the scene as a young woman in strange clothing was escorted at gunpoint to her unusual-looking ship about twenty minutes after docking, arguing loudly with the security officers the whole way. She had, to the alarm of many, attempted to pass through security with a loaded Lato and a tablet displaying a live feed of a mangled Warframe laid out on a table. She did not manage to acquire any food.

Astyka muttered irritably as she locked into her liset, tuning out the staring onlookers. The vertical semi-cylindrical passenger bed rotated back into the ship, presenting her with the familiar sight of a viewscreen about twelve centimeters from her face. She was, of course, stil mag-locked into a semi-spread-eagle position, and the neural interface didn't work particularly well with human flesh, so she had to pilot the ship via voice commands. "Undock, proceed to orbiter."  
Astyka felt the ship pull off from the dock, and orient itself from vertical to horizontal. All flaps were sealed, no structural problems were detected; time to go. The liset suddenly jolted forward, its engines flaring a cold blue. She was quite accustomed to the feeling of blood rushing to one end of her body suddenly before it could compensate, as well as the brief loss of consciousness. The Liset was, after all, not designed for human passengers.  
Before long, however, Astyka heard the smooth click of the liset docking with her orbiter, the significantly larger - albeit still small - ship that served as her home. As the passenger bed rotated back to face out of the liset, she was greeted by the sounds of home: the foundry's cacophony of noise, the quiet hum of the egg incubator, the whirring clicks of the data codex's filing system, the bubbling of the Endo and Kuva storage tanks, and so much more. She breathed in the comfortingly stale air, thin and odd-smelling.  
Alara's voice resounded throughout the ship, as perfect as always. "Welcome back, operator. Was your trip successful?"  
Astyka grunted irritably in response, stepping out as the mag-locks disengaged. Behind her, the wall moved to cover the liset's opening, almost organically shifting into place. "How are repairs coming?"

"Manasa will be fully operational in one hour and twenty-two minutes."  
"Notify me when she's ready," Astyka commanded, walking to her personal quarters, "I'll be taking a shower."  
"Of course, Operator. The foundry will have some hot water ready in two minutes."


End file.
